


in this low light

by caspasta



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, F/M, Making Stuff Up As I Go Along, Multiverse, Time Travel, basically Jane meets the endgame!loki who stole the tesseract and shenanigans happen, lokane - Freeform, what even is this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26185597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caspasta/pseuds/caspasta
Summary: Jane finds herself running into the Time Variance Authorities, an organization filled with secrets, danger, and a power that could threaten the entire universe.What could go wrong?(Or, Jane Foster comes face to face with the most infuriating anomaly she’s ever discovered: a Loki of the past.)
Relationships: Jane Foster/Loki
Comments: 21
Kudos: 78





	1. the same line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, here we are again. I can’t seem to write canon lokane yet. it has its moments, but really it’s been known to be overrated, so voilà.
> 
> jane fitting into the loki series is still a hope of mine, so don’t let us down, disney!
> 
> I know next to nothing about TVA, which universe/timeline loki’s show will be set in, how long TVA even has loki, if TVA is even nefarious or not, etc. this story really is a mess of me shrugging and making most of it up based on the barely-there series preview, the wiki articles, google, and my disaster of imagination. buckle in.
> 
> also, I’ve never written a multi-chap fic, so keep your expectations très low. :)
> 
> without further ado, here is in this in low light.
> 
> disclaimer: I do not own Marvel, Disney, or the new Loki series. boo.

The single, uncovered lightbulb swinging in the middle of the room is so cliche Jane wants to laugh, but she’s having a hard time finding any sort of amusement at the moment.

One minute she was tracking down an anomaly her equipment picked up on, and the next she was being accosted by a group of men, whose secrecy and general unpleasantness reminded her so much of S.H.I.E.L.D., she should have listened to the Erik voice she shoved to the back of her mind that was telling her to turn tail and run the second she reached the property fence.

But, her equipment was blinking at her incessantly and nobody was around and she _really_ wanted to know what the anomaly that led her here really was — akin to an Einstein-Rosen bridge, but _stronger_ somehow and coming from _beneath_ the ground instead of _from_ the sky — so, she climbed the fence and kept going.

In hindsight it wasn’t her best decision, she muses as she blinks away the spots that start to appear after staring too long at her only source of light, but at least she didn’t find any weird rocks glowing with strange, celestial energy for her to stick her hand into.

She sits forward and pulls at the handcuffs for the tenth time; they predictably don’t give, though her wrists _are_ starting to collect red marks. If she tugs any harder, the skin will break.

_Oh, who cares. They took my damn equipment!_

Changing tactics, she searches the empty room for anything that could help.

Jane, the metal table, and a pair of matching chairs are the only occupants.

_At least they don’t have a two-way mi_ —

Her reflection stares back; she sees frustration, confusion, exhaustion, and a number of unnamed emotions written on her face.

Standing and kicking her chair away, she pulls at the restraints chained to the table with a renewed vigor.

The door across from her opens, and a man in a suit steps in with the calmness of someone entering a business meeting. She recognizes him as one of the men who found her.

“I advise you not to do that,” he says strictly, shutting the door behind him.

“You _advise_ me —?” Jane’s ire grows. Shaking her wrists, ignoring the biting pain, she asks as calmly as she can, “What is this?”

The man ticks an eyebrow. “We told you.”

“You gave me a name of a group I’ve never heard of, which I honestly don’t remember, and threw me into this room. You’ve told me nothing.”

Instead of answering her — Jane grits her teeth at this — the man walks over to her chair and rights it.

“Have a seat, Miss Foster.”

Deciding that they may now start giving her answers, she sits but doesn’t lessen her glare as she watches the man scrape out his own chair.

After a beat or two of sitting in silence, she fidgets. “Well?”

“Do you have any idea what you’ve walked into?”

“I think I was pretty clear about that.”

“Do not take this lightly, Miss Foster.” There’s a warning in his voice. She ignores it; she’s never been one for authority, and he doesn’t scare her.

“I’m taking this anyway but lightly. I have no idea what you are, what this is, and why I’m being treated like some criminal.” She pulls harder at the cuffs, and feels the sting of an open wound meeting the cold air. “And it’s _Dr._ Foster.”

He narrows his eyes. “Oh, I should hope that it’s obvious why you’re here. People don’t just _find_ this place. You’ve trespassed on private property, and we can’t have that.”

She sighs. “ _Look_ , the place seemed abandoned.” Not exactly. While the building was nondescript and located in the middle of some nameless forest, she noticed the grass that was trimmed recently and that there were a few in-ground lights casting sickly glows against faded signs posted sporadically as she approached the building. “I thought it was some old power plant.” The signs she could still read suggested no such thing, but the lie sounds good enough. “My readings went crazy before I even reached the fence. I wanted to see what was causing it.” They already found her makeshift Van Allen device and journal with her, so there’s no point in hiding it. She wasn’t going to say what the readings said, though. “I couldn’t just walk away.” The last part’s completely true.

“So, you decided to trespass and sneak yourself into the building.”

Jane feels a sliver of shame. Even to her ears it sounds pathetic, but she doesn’t let it show because she’s not apologetic and doesn’t want to give this man or anyone the satisfaction.

“You don’t understand,” she says simply.

The man shakes his head. “I understand, I really do. I understand that it’s very easy to obey the law.”

Jane rolls her eyes. “Is that really what this is?” There’s more to this place, she can feel it, but maybe if she complies, they’ll let her go. “ _Fine_ , call the cops. Do whatever, just give me my stuff back and I’ll be out of your hair.”

_But don’t think I won’t find out what this all is when I’m gone._

“I’m afraid that’s not how things work around here.”

She sits forward. “What?”

“We’ll have to keep you here until we can be assured that you won’t be a problem.”

“A _problem_? You can’t do that,” she insists, feeling her anger resurface. “I thought you were all for obeying the law.”

“We are,” he agrees, standing and pushing the chair back in. Her restraints clink as she gets to her feet.

“Then you can’t do this!” He turns his back and heads for the door. Lowering her voice, she tries to speak evenly. “I’ll just leave with my stuff and go. Just let me leave.”

Looking back at her, he says bitingly, “You and your equipment will remain here, Miss Foster.”

Outraged, she starts forward and fails to get around the edge of the table, the handcuffs strong reminders of her powerlessness. “That’s my property! You can’t _do_ this!” The man is halfway out the door. “You _won’t_ get away with this!”

He twists at her last words and tilts his head, looking for all the world amused. “You know, he said something similar.” Huffing a laugh, he finally steps out.

“ _Who_? What?” The door closes behind him. “No, come back here! Wait!”

Her breathing is too loud in the empty room, and her wrists are red and sticky.

_What the hell have I gotten myself into?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the end
> 
> of the first chapter. who could the “he” be, I wonder. ;)
> 
> turns out, it’s jon snow who stepped into a weird portal he found beyond the wall.
> 
> let me know your thoughts — I sure as hell don’t what to think.
> 
> as always, thank you for reading!!


	2. finding the right light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane meets her new cellmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for the kudos and comments! :)
> 
> /proceeds to cry in writing
> 
> how tf do I write loki? he's so difficult
> 
> anyway, here is the next chap.

The next room they send Jane to smells of disinfectant and cold cement. A doctor cleans her wrists and tells her to not irritate the skin. He’s an eldery man with wispy white hair who looks like he could benefit from a trip to the hospital himself.

While he washes his hands in the sink and talks about replacing her bandages within the next day or so, she takes stock of the room. It’s like any other stuffy doctor’s office, but she doesn’t see any plaques or certificates lining the walls.

She does see the red sharps container hanging near the cabinets and saves that information for later.

He ends up giving her her watch back after having removed it to clean her wrists and pats her hands. There’s no smile on his face, but this little gesture gives her a bit of hope.

After the doctor’s, a man collects her and leads her down two flights of stairs — he has the same dark hair and blank face the other men do. It doesn’t creep her out as much as it should, but her growing suspicion makes her feel paranoid.

Her cell, which they tell her will be a temporary living situation, is bare and dark, the last in a row of several that line the hallway. The lights are dimmed, and the windowless, cramped area would make it hard to keep track of the days. Her digital watch feels tight around her bandage; she sends a mental _thank you_ to the doctor. 

There’s something that barely passes as a cot, a toilet, a sink, and a mirror, this one cracked and peeling, dotting the room. 

As far as the other cells, they all look empty of occupants — it’s hard to tell at first with the poor lighting — and she’s thankful because all that separates them are rusty bars that are stronger than they seem. After the guard or whoever left and she made sure she was alone, she shook the metal for a second or two before giving up after failing to hear any structural weaknesses.

Slotted against the furthest corner away from the bars, her cot looks clean enough, so she sits down with a sigh. 

_What a mess. I feel like I’m in one of Darcy’s bad horror movies._

_If only Erik could see me now._

_He’d probably reprimand me and call me a trouble-seeker. Again._

The words uttered to her after the whole thing with Malekith and the aether sound too loud in her mind right now. 

_“These things just don’t happen to you. You make them happen, and you’ve got to stop. You’ll get yourself killed, Jane. I can’t let that happen.”_

He said that with the sincerity of a father, and the sliver of shame she felt earlier in the interrogation room multiplies until it feels like a tree trunk is sitting on her chest. The part of her that still wants to figure out the anomaly doesn’t mind the weight, but she still doesn’t know anything about her situation — who these people are, why they’re really keeping her here, how she can get out, or where she should even start.

It’s like Norway all over again, only worse — she doesn’t remember what part of the state she’s in, her life is now controlled by a secret organization she’s never heard of, she was given no explanation, her stuff was taken, and she’s completely alone.

She doesn’t have Erik or Darcy or Thor or anyone to help her. To keep her company. To be as lost as she is and to feel as stupid as she does.

Dropping her head into her hands, she groans. 

“What is _wrong_ with me? Just read the stupid signs and stay away next time. Turn around and tell someone. _Bring_ someone. It’s not as hard as it seems. You have three doctorates and you can’t even read a sign and follow it. Now, you’re stuck here like Tromsø, except you were the one who _decided_ to come here, the hospitality is way shittier, you have no idea where you are, you’ve messed up your hands which are _really_ itchy now, and your equipment is gone. For all you know, there could be another alien invasion over New York, and you’ll never know it.”

“Are you quite finished?”

Her head whips up at the voice. She first thinks that maybe a guard has slipped in but can’t see anyone in the dark hallway that lines the cells

Two cells down, she makes out a figure, definitely a man, leaning in his cot, his back resting against the bars that separates his cell from the next. She can tell that he’s facing her, but the distance and the low light casting shadows across the floor and everything else keeps her from seeing his features.

_Where did he come from?_

“Would you like a specific birthplace? Because that actually gets a bit tricky.”

_Oh. He heard me. Can he read minds?_

Jane squints and thinks about pumpkins.

“Hello?” He asks impatiently.

Or, she just accidentally spoke her first question aloud.

She clears her throat and shifts to face him. “Um, actually, I was just wondering where you came from in relation to here,” she awkwardly waves toward the hallway, “because I didn’t see you when they brought me in.”

He rolls his neck, and she can hear something crack. _Ew._

“That’s because I can do _this_.”

The man disappears, and she blinks and sputters. 

“Um…”

His shadowed figure returns, all lean and casual, as if he never left. Her heart speeds up.

“Where did you go?”

“Nowhere.”

“But —”

He flickers out of existence again, then like a switch, he’s back.

“You can turn _invisible_?”

“Very astute.”

_Okay, I’ve got an asshole for a cellmate, but —_

“How?” Is he wearing a reflecting device? Something that cloaks the particles and —

“Magic.”

In a universe of infinity stones and purple titans that can wipe out half of life and green gamma radiation doctors who can bring them back, she really should have guessed. 

“Oh. That’s neat.”

The man sits forward, and she can tell his hair is black. “Neat?”

He sounds offended. 

“Well, it’s nothing new, to be honest. It’s really, really cool. I’m a physicist and can appreciate something that really is just another word for science. I actually know someone who can manipulate the —”

“Another word for _science_? Magic? Are you mad?”

Her brow furrows, something in his foreign accent — British? — seeming familiar, like something she’s heard long ago, but time’s made the connection blurred and weak. “No. Magic _is_ really a very advanced form of science. Maybe not completely explainable, yet. But, I say we’ve progressed very far considering the —”

“You _are_ mad.” 

“Am not.”

“You are,” he says confidently. Jane’s used to being laughed at for her ideals and theories. That doesn’t mean she has to take it every time.

“Look, mister. Think about ancient civilizations and what they’ve —”

“I’d rather not.”

“— accomplished. And, if you show a microwave to old Mesopotamia or the Incans, they would —”

“And did you call me mister?”

“— think it was _magic_.”

He’s silent finally, but she can see that he's shaking his head and...is he _smirking_?

Jane throws her hands up. “Okay, call me mad, but at least I’m not a close-minded asshole.”

A moment of silence, and then two. Three.

The man stands, and _of course_ , he’s tall. Jane foolishly realizes that while she still doesn’t know why she’s being held here, it’s definitely not for any violent threat she poses.

This guy, however, could be here for _reasons_.

Dangerous reasons.

Good on that guard, then, for putting a cell between them. 

But, hey — she’s hit two gods, and she’s still breathing.

Even so, as she carefully watches the man approach the bars that separate his cell from the empty one between them, _reasons_.

“You really don’t want to make an enemy of me.”

Something about the hard edge in his voice mixed with the way he carries himself as if he owns the very air around him pisses her off.

Rolling her eyes, she asks, “An enemy? Really? Sounds a little melodramatic for someone locked in a cell eighty feet underground.”

He tilts his head. “Are you mocking me?”

Jane almost nods, then almost, as stupidly, shakes her head. 

_Why are you goading him?_

_I don’t know, he's a jackass. Plus, it felt natural. It was like instinct._

_Best not to antagonize him if he can turn invisible, Jane. Who knows what else he can do?_

Sighing, she stands up and walks toward the bars her cell shares with the empty one. He moves his head back a few inches at her approach. _Curious._

“Who are these people?”

There’s more silence, then he turns around at her question and starts a slow walk around the small space his cell allows.

“Fools.”

She’s glad he went along with her change of subject, but she thinks he’s not one to let go. “I kind of gathered that myself.”

“Imbeciles. They have no concept of power or how to control it.”

“Who _are_ they?”

“They call themselves the Time Variance Authorities.”

“What does that mean?”

He stops and turns to face her. She still can’t make out the features, and she thinks he can’t see her, either. “It means that they monitor the flow of time and make sure everything happens as it should, when it should.”

 _Controlling_ time? Can people really do that?

_C’mon, Jane. You heard from Erik about what the Avengers did to get everyone back from the Snap. Everyone, including you. Time travel’s real._

Yes, she can understand that time travel is real, can probably even understand how it works if she researches it.

But, _controlling_ it?

“That sounds ridiculous. _These_ are the people who took me? Why?”

He sits on his cot and, from her new vantage point, notices how small the bed looks compared to him, his long legs bent past the edge of the mattress. “It is ridiculous, believe me. And why would _I_ know why you’re here?”

“I don’t know, just thinking aloud.” She leans against the bars and puts her bandaged wrists against the cool metal. It stops the itching a little, but she knows about heat transfer, and she’ll look really weird if she starts putting her itchy wrists on every cool surface of the cell she can find once the conduction does its job. She should have asked the doctor for some hydrocortisone cream or something. “Why are you here?”

He hangs his head and leans his elbows on his knees. She doesn’t know this man but the image feels out of place, feels too vulnerable for someone like him, whose posture reminds her of princes and kings, whose words speak of enemies and fools and magic. “I slipped up. I should’ve seen them coming.”

The words are barely above a whisper, but she hears them all the same. Hears the disappointment and anger and confusion.

“What do you mean?”

The question startles him; his shoulders tense and his hands stop rubbing in thought. She has déjà vu from ten minutes ago when she realized she wasn’t alone.

Standing and approaching the empty cell’s bars again, he crosses his arms. “Why are _you_ here?”

She can _hear_ the smirk in his voice and tries to hate that he, too, changed the subject. “I already told you, I don’t know —”

“No. What did you _do_ to make them take someone like you?”

Jane opens her mouth to defend herself, but no words come out. Feeling herself go red, she curses the man who interrogated her all the more. “I _trespassed_.” She barely retrains herself from miming the quotation marks.

“That’s it?” Under other circumstances, she would grit her teeth until they hurt at the unimpressed way he responds, but —

“ _Thank you_. It’s not a big deal, right? That’s what I told them.”

He shakes his head, and he leans against the bars. “I think there might be more to it than that.”

She stands upright. “Look, I was following something my equipment picked up on, it led me here, I climbed over the fence, I got into the building, they found me, here I am, end of story.”

He tilts his head and takes his weight off the bars but makes no comment.

Jane waves dismissively and says, “See? No big deal.” She watches him turn his head this way and that, trying to catch her eye. Turning around and walking to her cot, she sits. “I admit, breaking their lock wasn’t my finest moment, but I was —”

“What did your equipment say?”

Blowing out a breath, she sees the numbers and graphs that appeared on her device clear in her head. “Just some anomaly. I’d seen something like it years ago, and years before that, too, but it's been quiet for a while now, and then, _boom_ .” Jane grimaces. “Sorry, I don’t usually say stuff like _boom_ . I’m just rattled and frustrated, and this _reading_ — this reading was different in a way because it wasn’t tracking something in the sky like before. It came from below. Ergo, anomaly. Well, an anomaly of an anomaly. It was, _is_ , coming from here.”

She doesn’t care if she’s not making any sense, but she doubts this man has any idea what she’s talking about, and it feels good to talk about something normal.

“What’s your name?”

The question isn’t that far-fetched considering they’ve been talking for a bit and are complete strangers, but after her spiel, she was expecting different questions like _what are you talking about?_ and _are you some sort of storm-chaser?_ and _did you really say boom?_

And, given that she still doesn’t know why this sometimes-invisible man is locked up, she’s a little hesitant.

Her voice sounds strange to her ears when she says it, like she’s answering some sort of test. Like she’s saying it for the first time. “Jane Foster.”

She hears a breath of a laugh, and when he shakes his head in disbelief, a sliver of light reveals his eyes. 

Blue.

Apprehension bubbles up in her chest when they flash at her. That familiar feeling from before returns.

Jane stands and approaches the bars. “And, you? What’s your name? It’s only fair.”

The man considers it, but finally, he steps into a patch of light to his left, his features sharp and clear. Her heart skips.

Grinning, he introduces himself. “I’m Loki. You may have heard of me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what'd I tell ya? his dialogue is the most challenging, bc I don't want it to turn into a parody of antiquated language. hjälp.
> 
> now they're jail buddies, jane's confused as hell, loki's amused, and I have no idea what to do with this story.
> 
> the last line of course refers to loki's line in the dark world before jane wapows him in the face. 
> 
> until next time!


	3. an again will restart us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane has a lot of questions, and Loki answers in typical Loki-fashion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the longish wait. i'm still trying to get this story off its feet, but I have no idea how to keep it going. 
> 
> this chap is just more banter and questions and confusion and frustration. seeing as we still know nothing about the loki series, all of the "world-building" will be really messy and unimaginative because I don't have a lot to work with. still, I’m trying!!
> 
> but, enjoy this for now, bc I love writing lokane :)

It’s a dream. 

It’s a dream, and Jane will wake up, and she’ll be back at her lab, data sheets stuck to her cheek and a chipped Culver University mug of cold apple cider acting as a poor excuse for a paperweight for said data sheets.

It’s a dream, and she’ll laugh at the absurd image of Loki wearing a polo and try to shake off the startled race of her heart that almost stopped when she realized it was him.

He’s _dead_. Thor told her. It was quick and gruesome, and Thanos left the God of Thunder brotherless and heartbroken — _for good._ Thor hadn’t said anymore than that, and when she asked if it was one of Loki’s tricks again, he just shook his head. 

The look in his eyes was enough for her.

So, this is a dream. 

A very, very _vivid_ dream.

Peering down at her hands, ignoring the very _real_ sensation of her sore wrists, she counts all ten of her fingers. _Shit_.

Jane looks up and catches his gaze. The smirk is gone, but he’s still watching her. “You’re dead.”

A quirk of an eyebrow. “I’m aware,” he drawls, then sweeps a hand across him. “And, yet...”

Jane blinks and feels a headache coming on, feeling a bit of panic seep into her. _Not now_. She turns around and heads back to her cot, sitting cross-legged and closing her eyes, her rain boots squeaking in the quiet.

“What are you —”

“Shh,” she peeks at him, and sure enough, he looks ready to murder her at being _shh_ ed at. Closing her eyes again, she says, “I’m thinking.”

_He’s dead. I’m dreaming._

She hears a scoff and clenches her teeth. “Oh, come on, Dr. Foster. Is it really too hard to fathom? I thought you were supposed to be bright.”

_He’s dead. I’m dreaming. And he’s still an ass._

“How do you know that I’m dead?”

She opens her eyes and glares at him. “You _are_. Thor told me. Thanos killed you, and you didn’t come back, and you were dead.”

“Thor told you?” He chuckles, and it’s humorless and irritating. “How _sweet_ of him.”

“Shut up.”

“Did he also tell you how I _saved_ Asgard from Ragnarok, which I _started_?”

She stands. “You still _saved_ them.”

 _Now you’re defending him?_ From _him?_

_It’s a dream. It’s fine._

_It’s not a dream._

He smiles, but his eyes are full of hatred. “I don’t know what happened, but I became soft and weak, and that’s why I’m dead.”

The bitterness and anger in his words sound too raw. Years have gone past since she last saw him, _heard_ him, dying a different death on Svartalfheim, and her imagination isn’t so good as to recreate a living, breathing Loki, sharp and regal even in the poor lighting and bars between them. A dream can’t replicate his low voice or the light in his eyes that contains some of his mischief and all of his magic. The way he can still make her so angry, yet curious, despite herself.

Her dreams never could get him right.

Sighing, she sits back down. “Okay, listen...you’re dead. But, you’re here. Are you...wait.”

“Patience isn’t —”

“Shh. You’re here...” She stands back up.

He sighs. “We’ve established that.”

Walking toward the bars, she points to the ceiling. “ _Here_ , as in the Time Variance Whatever.”

One brow ticks at her, and he says flatly, “Authorities.”

She nods. “That.”

He looks expectantly at her, and she notices, for the first time, that his hair is shorter than she’s ever seen it.

“You’re from another time,” she says, smiling. When Jane says it aloud, it makes perfect sense. She likes when things make sense.

Loki just rolls his eyes. “Finally.”

Her smile disappears. “Okay, you could've just told me.”

“Well,” he starts, grinning. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Narrowing her eyes, she decides to pull his strings. “You looked annoyed when I figured it out, not amused.”

“Oh, believe me, I’m amused.” 

“You’re amused?”

“I am.”

“You’re impossible.”

“So, I’ve been told.”

“And ridiculous.” _She_ feels ridiculous for partaking in this.

Loki looks from her thrifted car coat and flannel to her jeans and red boots before returning to her eyes with raised eyebrows.

“Hey!” She snaps, crossing her arms and clicking her heels like Dorothy, ignoring the shiver she felt at his slow appraisal, as condescending as it was.

He just shrugs and leans against the bars.

Waving a hand at his outfit that she can see clearly now that he moved into better lighting — a tan _TVA_ shirt and plain pants, dark shoes melting into the shadows — she exclaims, “You’re one to talk,” not really meaning it because _god, how can he still pull that off? Am I going to have to wear that, too?_

“Technically, I didn’t say anything, but,” Loki looks at his clothes in disgust, “I’ll have to agree with you on that.”

Though the clothes are modern and not altogether strange, the picture he paints is uncanny and absurd. This is _Loki_. She’s used to seeing photos of horns and capes, gold and green, armor reinforcing his strength, or remembering a close-up, toned-down version of his Asgardian garb in the palace, on the ship, under the red glow of an infinity stone. 

Although his current attire could disguise him from others and he could easily blend in with the masses, Jane _knows_ him. To her, he looks like a man out of time. A jarring anachronism. A misplaced myth.

The question that’s been bugging her can’t be ignored anymore.

“ _When_ are you from?”

One side of his mouth lifts in a half-smirk. “Your precious Avengers never told you, then.”

“What?”

“They went back in time and stole the stones to bring everybody back.”

Jane furrows her brows. “Yes, I know that.” She’s trying to figure out what that has to do with her question, but whatever little Erik told her doesn’t help her. “Bruce brought everyone back, and Stark sacrificed himself.”

Loki’s eyes narrow at the names, and he rolls his neck. “Is that all you know?”

Jane crosses her arms. She knew the moment she sat down with Erik to talk about everything that’s happened — everything that she was cut off from after her break-up with Thor, everything she missed in the five years she ceased to exist, everything everybody did to return those Thanos erased — there were things she was not going to be told. Whether it was because Erik didn’t know, or he forgot to tell her, or he intentionally omitted things.

That last possibility hurt. She didn’t know everything, and she wouldn’t. And, that _hurt_. 

After Thor, her life became less _eventful_ , so to speak, and she wasn’t complaining about being safe and far away from the danger of gods and realms and heroes for once, but she thought she could at least contribute her experience and knowledge to the fight. She _did_ want to fight. 

She still does. Whatever and wherever that fight may be.

But those years she was out of the loop, things happened she still doesn’t know about.

Rather than saying all this, Jane simply mutters, “Yes.”

“I didn’t think so.” And there’s that smirk again.

She throws her hand out in exasperation, nearly hitting it against the bars. “Whatever you’re hinting at, whatever knowledge that might help me deduce where and when you’re from — don’t you think I would’ve already been able to at least guess if I had known?” _Yes_ , he’s riling her up, and _yes_ , she’s yelling.

He nods his head in concession. “I suppose.”

Running a hand through her hair, she sighs. “Then, why ask in the first place?”

Jane’s met with silence, and after about three seconds, she realizes he doesn’t mean to answer. The amused look on his face, though, tells her everything. Cursing him and the million other alternate Lokis, she adjusts her bandages and sits back down. Her head’s aching again, and she really hopes it has something to do with the cranky Asgardian two cells away from her, and not the alternative. “Listen. I don’t care, but apparently I have all day — and counting — so, when you’re done getting off on my not knowing wherever the hell you dropped in from, be my guest and tell me.”

The cot has rips in three places and smells like mold, and she bets her favorite telescope that the floor is way more comfortable than the thing she’s sitting on now, but she’s already here, so she closes her eyes and ignores the smell. And her irritating cellmate.

“I have more time than you to wait this impasse out, doctor, so don’t think your strategy will work.”

He says it with such pride, such challenge. A man used to having the upper hand.

_A fruitless thing to do, ignoring Loki, but should I have really expected less?_

Jane opens her eyes to glare at him, but it doesn’t work because his eyes are glued to her wrists. She’s tempted to flip him off, she really is. 

“Why, because you’re a gazillion years old, or something?”

His eyes narrow as he considers her question, clearly _un_ amused by her flippant question. “Or, something.”

The way he says it so quietly, almost to himself, like he’s still figuring something out, makes her want to know, but she also doesn’t want to fall into another game of questions and semantics so soon. Or, ever.

Instead, she looks to her wrists. Peeking beneath the white of the cloth bandages the old doctor gave her is the splotchy red of irritated skin where the handcuffs reached their hold. The color reminds her of _it_ , where in rare moments of solitude, the aether flared beneath her forearms as if someone held a very powerful flashlight to her skin.

She sometimes feels as if it’s still inside of her, some cheerless shadow slithering between muscle and bone, clawing at her lungs and weighing her down. Her recurring headaches and bouts of fatigue she’s been experiencing since Thanos’s defeat sparked a bit of panic in her, the symptoms too similar to the ones that manifested when the red, dark power flowed through her, and when she asked around, she realized the pain had nothing to do with being brought back. It was something else.

The hollow, overwhelming thought that it might still be in her, somehow, terrified her. It isn’t a power she wants, to feel so disconnected from the world, unaware.

Whether there’s really a part of her that’s _aether_ now or there are some cosmic, unexplainable (so far, her research has turned up nothing) after-effects she’s still experiencing after all these years, or if it’s just psychosomatic, the aether’s shade, for lack of a better word, is a constant presence and a constant reminder, stifled after so much time, but still there, like a scar she’s not yet used to.

“Are you in pain?”

Jane turns to Loki, her arms resting on her knees, palms up. His gaze finds her, and she doesn’t know how to answer him because she thinks there might be a bit of genuine concern laced in his voice. She doesn’t have the faintest idea what to do with it.

Maybe he’s just toying with her. Maybe she’s just hearing things.

Before she can think of something to say, the door at the end of the small hallway opens and a guard brings in two trays and slides them in her and Loki’s cells through slots she hadn’t noticed until now. The guard says nothing, but when Loki sends him a glare, he quickens his pace and shuts the door a little too loudly.

A thought pops into her mind, and she wonders why she never thought to ask before.

“Why were you invisible?”

He looks up from toeing the tray around on the ground with crossed arms. “What?”

Jane sighs, knowing he heard her. “From before?”

The shrug he throws at her is small and bored. “I had to see.”

“See?” She echoes, looking around at their enclosed room. “There’s nothing to see. It’s practically pitch-black. We can barely see each other now.”

“I was assessing the situation. It’s perilous to walk into something blindly.”

She raises her brows and sends him a sad smile. “Not everyone is your enemy, Loki.”

“Well,” he says, trading her smile with one of his own. “Perspective.”

Jane drops the subject, partly because she doubts he’ll say more than that and partly because she has more questions. “You recognized me eventually, though. Have we met, then, in your time?”

She almost misses the way his eyes dart quickly to the side before they return to her. He says, “No, not exactly.”

So, before Malekith? During New Mexico, perhaps.

But, he knows about this timeline’s Loki, and the war with Thanos, the Snap and the stones. Did he time travel to those events or had he partaken in them? Did he find out through sources here? 

The headache throbs, and she shakes those questions and tucks them somewhere in the back of her mind. “But, you know who I am?”

A nod and, “I do.”

Jane runs through their interactions. Asgard and Svartalfheim. The _not exactly_ still bugs her. The very first time she heard of him, she was in Puente Antiguo, busy with his brother and the exciting possibility of other worlds. 

Erik’s chiding about myths, his book, Thor’s friends showing up and warning him about the younger prince who now sat on the throne. 

The Destroyer, Thor pleading with it to stop, the metal humanoid pausing to listen, as if Loki were seeing and hearing the sights and sounds of the New Mexican desert. As if he were there.

He could see them. Her.

 _Not exactly_ , he had said.

New Mexico is on the tip of her tongue, but then she remembers that it doesn’t account for his ability to time travel. The mythology she researched never said anything about Loki having that power, and she’s sure Thor would have mentioned it if the stories got this one wrong.

A weapon, or a tool, then. The Avengers had built a time machine, given that the time stone had been destroyed with the other five. The aether, no. They called that one the reality stone, and one could imply that different timelines alter different realities, or the perception of reality, in general, but that may be a reach.

Maybe.

She moves onto the power stone, one she knows nothing about as it had been recovered in a different part of the universe. 

The mind stone, Loki did have for a period of time. The scepter. But, no. That controlled minds and created Ultron and Vision, and time travel didn’t fit.

That left...the tesseract.

Jane’s breath hitched. The tesseract, also called the space stone. It allowed for space travel, as it operates within spacetime. 

Her mind bounces from closed-timelike curves to exotic matter, from quantum entanglement to time dilation, from Einstein’s relativity to her own work on wormholes.

Surely, it could allow for — and, with the energy contained within the cube — 

“New York.”

It’s half question, half answer. From the grin that slowly curls at the corner of Loki’s mouth, she knows she’s right.

Her hand tingles with the memory of hitting him all those years ago.

Jane grips the bars and catches his eyes. “And the Avengers, when they went back, they…”

Loki’s mirth shakes his whole body as he continues smiling. “Left something behind. Not their best plan, I must admit.”

Jane scoffs and returns to her cot, her mind racing and her headache pounding. _For god’s sake, what happened..._

When the hall door opens, Loki’s face returns to a blank canvas, the shadows still managing to throw his features in sharp, abstract shapes. A guard enters, and she only knows this one is different from the last because he seems indifferent to the god’s presence; he merely walks to her cell and unlocks it. “This way.”

“Why are you keeping her here?” Loki’s voice is a surprising sound. In her short time here, he’s talked to none but her. She blinks at him.

The guard repeats in a monotone voice, “This way.” 

Jane hesitates, wanting nothing more than to find a comfortable position on this cot and fall into a deep sleep.

But, maybe now, wherever they’re taking her, they’ll tell her something. Getting to her feet, she exits the cell and follows the guard.

When she spares Loki a glance, she immediately regrets it. His icy stare follows her out, and she barely catches the frown forming on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh oh, what's gonna happen?
> 
> idk yet. don't you just love the confidence in my own story? I have a few ideas, but I'd love to hear what y'all want to happen!
> 
> thank you for reading, and leave comments, questions, suggestions, reactions!


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